Echo Six: Black Ops 5 - Strikeforce Syria (5 page)

The sniper positioned himself in an empty window. He rested the barrel of his rifle on the ledge and loaded the clip of tracer rounds. Talley gave him a final nod, and he opened fire to devastating effect. The first bullet mangled a gas valve, and Jesse aimed the next tracer round to hit the already broken mechanism to ignite the gas. Immediately, a blast of flame jetted up into the air as the gas ignited, followed by more jets of flame that soared ten meters in the sky. It was like someone had pressed a switch. The mood of the crowd changed in an instant, and their shouts for blood changed to cries of panic about an explosion. They ran.

Guy saw the opening and took it. Thirty seconds later the tourist bus halted outside the Israeli Embassy with a hiss of air brakes. He pressed the button to open the door, and two Echo Six troopers rushed out to mount guard. Talley turned to the Ambassador.

"Get aboard. We don't have much time. Tell your people to move, Sir, before they come back."

The man hesitated. "I don't like the idea of abandoning the Embassy, of leaving the dead where they are.”

“Embassies can be rebuilt, and the dead are dead. You need to worry about the living.”

Perlman returned his stare; the look on his elderly face was both dignified and sorrowful. "You’re right. We will rebuild, and they will be avenged."

The Ambassador signaled to the survivors and led the way onto the bus. Talley ordered the rest of his unit to join them, and less than a minute later, Guy closed the door and drove away.

He stayed up front with his number two, keeping an eye out for any further trouble. He thought of the man they’d missed.

"Guy, this Benjamin Rothstein, who is he?"

Welland kept his gaze on the street ahead of them. "I'm not sure it's the same man."

"And if it is?"

A pause. "My older brother; to be accurate, my stepbrother. His father was divorced when he married my widowed mother, and Ben decided to make Aliyah.”

“Aliyah?”

“Yep, the immigration of Jews, the return from the diaspora to the land of Israel.” He smiled to himself, recollecting happier days. "We spent a fair bit of time together at first, but as he grew older, he became fanatical about all things Jewish. Because I wasn't fanatical about Judaism, we grew apart. He became what we call a religious Zionist and dedicated his life to further the cause of his adopted country. I'm sorry to say we grew to dislike each other intensely."

Talley was mystified. "What’s so special about him? Admiral Brooks specifically asked me to keep an eye out for him. Do you have any ideas?"

Guy grimaced. "I'm afraid I do. It's not his politics or religion that interests them; it's his work."

"What does he do?"

"Benjamin Rothstein is one of the foremost scientists in the field of chemical weapons, nerve gas, stuff like that. He was working on an antidote to a new weapon called CX9. The chemical attacks the lungs and other internal organs, and destroys them within seconds. The beauty of it is that it doesn’t stay in the atmosphere. After the initial dispersal, it drops to the ground and decays to an inert substance, so tactically it’s very valuable. But I doubt it’s the antidote they want. His work can equally be used to create the gas itself. If I know Ben, he'll hold out against them for as long as he can until they torture him, and then he’ll be forced to tell them what he knows. Then they’ll be able to create their own stocks of CX9. He once told me it’s a simple process when you know how. That’s the real problem; within weeks, even days, they could be in a position to stage a devastating attack on the State of Israel. That would mean a horrific loss of civilian life. Men and women slaughtered in tens of thousands, and children.”

Why do these Muslim fanatics always target the children?

They drove along the dusty roads in silence; the enormity of the threat posed by the insurgent’s capture of Rothstein was beyond comprehension. He thought of his own kids, who almost died when they were used as pawns in a deadly battle. The suicide bomber back there, blasted to shreds of bloody tissue. The other kid in the Embassy; shot dead when he couldn’t understand the meaning of simple human compassion. He wanted to throw up but managed to keep it down.
 

This isn’t what I signed up for. Not a war that involves children. The slaughter of the innocents.

He realized how tired he really was. He’d had enough.

* * *

Vice Admiral Carl Brooks listened to the reports from Cairo and put the phone down. The operation to secure the Israeli Embassy was a success, but the important part, the rescue of Professor Rothstein, had failed. He was missing, spirited away. So the Islamic fanatics would soon be in possession of the secrets locked inside the scientist’s brain. He stared at the man standing opposite him in the operations room at Lod Air Base, near Tel Aviv.

Major-General Lev Weiss, the man with special responsibility for defending the State of Israel against WMDs. It was a thankless post. Since the Iraqi debacle, and the Iranian arms buildup, the military had nightmares about potential attacks. In contrast, the politicos were lukewarm. They wouldn’t act without concrete proof. If these weapons exist, they said, show us. Trouble was the Arabs might decide to show them first, by means of a devastating surprise attack on Israel.

“It’s bad news, Lev. The bastards got him. We’re looking at a total disaster.”

Weiss was a small, wiry desert-hardened man, with leathery skin, a head that was totally hairless, and small, piercing blue eyes like slits. He was accustomed to staring across the battlefields, past and present, of his native land. His mouth was a thin, hard line. The General never smiled, or so they said. Not ever. It was difficult for anyone who didn’t know him to guess his function within the Israeli Defense Force. Which was they way he liked it. He was dressed in civilian clothes, creased chinos tucked carelessly into worn jump boots, and a battered leather jacket. More like a truck driver than an Army General, and that suited him just fine. He was no desk warrior. His eyes closed for a second, as if he was muttering a prayer.

“Ben zona! (Son of a whore!) Is it certain?”

“Yes. He’s gone. They’ll take him to Aleppo for sure, right in the center of the Syrian civil war. He’s out of reach.”

“No one is out of reach,” Weiss objected. “It’s just a question of hitting the right target with the correct amount of force.”

“I wasn’t talking about military force, Lev. Politics, that’s what we’re up against. The Secretary General of NATO is under pressure from the Heads of State, who are also under pressure. The European NATO members have problems with their Muslim populations, and they won’t be happy about a NATO incursion into yet another Islamic country.”

 
“Even America?” Weiss demanded.

“No, not America. They know where the threat is coming from and won’t forget 911 in a hurry. But the Brits, the Danes, the Italians, they’ve had enough, and the word is out. No incursions into Syria, period.”

“Not even Special Forces? A quick operation, in and out before they know what’s hit them.”

“Especially Special Forces. The Secretary General is adamant. Under no circumstances can we send in any NATO forces.” He paused for effect. “What about your people, the Israeli Defense Force? The Knesset must be aware of the dangers. They could lay on an air strike, even send in Sayeret Matkal.”

The Sayeret Matkal, General Staff Reconnaissance Unit, was a special forces unit of the IDF, part of the intelligence directorate Aman.

Lev grimaced. “It’s an election year, and the word on the street across Israel is peace at any price. No politician will stick his neck out and give the go ahead an incursion into Syria. They say it would send the wrong message to the Islamic world for Israelis to go in, either in the air or on the ground.”

“But Rothstein is a special case, surely? They’re already on the verge of a breakthrough with weapons grade nerve gases, and this CX9 is the kicker. He could give them everything they need to create this stuff, and it would be disaster for Israel.”

“I’ve told them a dozen times, and they won’t listen. They want to hear one word. Peace. Talk to them about an armed incursion into Syria, and they’ll threaten to replace me with someone more inclined to their point of view. I could maybe recruit a couple of operatives to help out without anyone noticing, Mossad, Sayeret possibly, but it would have to be kept under the radar. What about your people, NATFOR?”

“As I said, they’ve vetoed any NATO involvement.”

“So we’re screwed, and those Islamic crazies will soon have the means to attack any nation they choose. They won’t stop at Israel, you know. Damned politicians, I’d like to send in a team and shoot the lot of them.”

Brooks grinned. “You’d have to join the queue. You’re right about the CX9. If they get hold of it, no country is safe. Those weapons must be destroyed, unless we want to bend down and become part of the Islamic Caliphate they’re determined to create.” Lev shuddered. “Except that officially, the word is we stay out of Syria.”

Weiss looked up and met his eyes. “Officially, is that what you said?”

“I did.”

“And unofficially?”

Brooks shrugged. “I don’t know. It may be possible. I have someone in mind. The unit's on its way back from Cairo.”

“Echo Six? They did well, damn well.”

“They’ve never let me down, and it may be possible to keep them in the field a while longer. There’s no need to mention the operation has concluded, not yet.”

Weiss stared at him. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

Brooks shook his head. “It’s nothing.” But he was thinking furiously.

That FBI Special Agent, Dwight Masterson, could take Abe Talley down for a long jail sentence. His ego is bigger than the Empire State Building, and Talley made him look like a fool in front of his men. He wants to take revenge, and if he has his way, he’ll get it. But if Echo Six are off the radar, they’d be out of his reach.

He looked at the Israeli General. “Lev, if this goes ahead, it’ll be top secret, even from our own bosses. If they hear what we’re doing, we could both be looking at a court martial and a jail term.”

“You’d do this, Carl? Risk everything for Israel?”

Brooks grimaced. “Yes and no. It’s not just for Israel. If those lunatics get hold of this CX9, they could hold the whole world to ransom. I wish we could make our masters see sense, but they either can’t or won’t. It changes nothing. The job still has to be done, so it’s down to us.”

Weiss nodded. “Good. I can assign two of my Mossad people right away.”

“And I’ll brief Echo Six to carry out the operation. I can talk to them as soon as they get here.”

Both men shook hands.

“Remember, Lev. This operation doesn’t exist.”

The Israeli looked puzzled. “What operation?”

Giza – The First Day

The journey to the LZ was straightforward. After they'd called in the Osprey, which was circling unseen out in the deep desert, they waited less than half an hour almost in the shadow of the Pyramids. The huge, ungainly looking craft roared in from the south, and they watched the wings tilt into the hover position. The big helo landed, and they surged up the ramp. The huge rotors roared as the pilot applied full power, and the Boeing V-22 slowly climbed back into the sky. When they reached a safe working height, the wings once more tilted in a wonder of technology, and the aircraft accelerated away in the fixed wing flight mode on a course for Israel.

They landed at Lod Air Base, the military part of Ben Gurion International, just as the first rays of dawn were lighting up the sky. A squad of Israeli security men rushed out and ushered the Embassy staff away for medical treatment. A group of tough looking men in plain clothes, almost certainly Mossad, led Echo Six across the concrete to a small building at the rear of a maintenance hangar. Inside the hangar, they passed a squad of uniformed soldiers, Israeli Defense Force, who were unloading wooden crates from a truck and stacking them inside the cavernous space.

Talley exchanged a glance with his number two. The gear was familiar to them, M2 fifty caliber heavy machine guns and a half-dozen NLAWs, Next Generation Light Anti-tank Weapons. Guy almost tripped over an ammunition box left carelessly on the floor. He grimaced, picked it up, and stacked it on top of the pile. The cases were stenciled clearly on each side. IMI Negev light machine guns, Galil assault rifles, and even the legendary fifty caliber Desert Eagle pistols. There were strengthened and shockproof cases of commo equipment, and even a single box of SIMON breach grenades, the rifle mounted weapon designed to breach toughened steel doors prior to an assault.

"Anyone would think they were about to start a war with all the stuff,” Guy grinned.

A soldier overheard him. "Friend, this is Israel, and we're surrounded by enemies. Any of the Islamic nations surrounding our borders could invade at any time. They’ve done it before."

“Believe me, I won't forget,” Guy replied. “I am also Jewish. Tell me, do you have a mission about to launch?"

The man shook his head. "Need to know, I'm afraid, and they haven't told me. Hamas fired a batch of missiles inside our territory a couple of days ago, so I'd imagine the IDF will be preparing to attack the launch sites. We have a bunch of IAI Harops in the next hangar, so I guess they'll be put to good use real soon."

"Harops? The new UCAVs, unmanned combat air vehicles?"

"They’re the ones; just a guided bomb that cruises over a designated area. When a target is allocated, the controller sends the Harop straight in. Bang."

“They any good?"

Talley smiled, his number two had an endless fascination with all things military.

"They’re good. If the enemy launches missiles at us when those babies are on station, they better watch out. They pack a nasty punch."

Guy nodded. "That Hamas missile attack, was anyone killed?"

The soldier shook his head. "They hit a school, but by a miracle, there were no deaths. Some of the kids were badly injured, and some will never fully recover. At least they’re alive.”

Talley felt the sickness in his stomach returning.

The children. Always the kids, why do the Islamists always hit the children?

"Bastards!” Guy spat. “I hope you dump plenty of munitions on their heads."

The man nodded. "We'll do our best to stop them."

He went on stacking the crates. Talley looked at Guy. He’d not know how deeply he felt about Israel.

"You were never tempted to make Aliyah, to return to the Jewish homeland?"

Guy looked puzzled. "I'm British. Why would I change? Besides, what Echo Six does often involves hitting the Islamic fundamentalists, and that helps Israel. So everyone's happy."

"Except for the raghead with a gun."

Guy shrugged. "You can't please everyone."

* * *

"You missed him!"

Talley and Welland were stood to attention in front of Admiral Brooks. He'd been waiting with General Weiss for their return in a room at the rear of the hangar, and he looked pissed, real pissed.

"He'd already been taken away when we got there, Sir. If he is Guy's brother, it's not surprising, in view of what he can give them. We had no chance at all."

Brooks stared at both of them. "You know what this scientist does? What's this about his brother?"

Talley explained about the connection to Guy and that it now seemed certain the Professor was in fact his stepbrother.

"Your stepbrother! Jesus Christ, I never knew that," he told them, as if blaming himself for not knowing every last detail about the men under his command.

He stared angrily at Welland, as if for not making the obscure facts of his family lineage known to him. Guy shuffled his feet and kept his own gaze an inch over the top of the Admiral's head, as his training had instructed him when dealing with senior officers; especially angry senior officers. Brooks grunted and looked at Talley.

"How's the leg? Are you up still up to leading your team?"

The wound was painful, but he'd done his best to hide any suggestion he was unfit for duty.

It's a just flesh wound, dammit.

"A scratch, Sir. It's no problem."

The Admiral smiled his disbelief. “Good, you’re ready to continue. I was hoping you’d say that.”

“I thought the operation was over, Admiral,” Talley objected.

“Not exactly.” He stabbed at an intercom button on the desk. "Send them both in."

Two people walked into the office. The first, a man, looked like an academic, but it was the other newcomer who made him catch a breath. She was a knockout, a stunner. Although despite her beauty, she looked stern and businesslike. There were no coy, feminine glances. Admiral Brooks wore a faint smile on his lips as he introduced them.

"Mossad sent these two operatives to lend a hand. Meet David Beckerman and Rebecca Dayan."

They shook hands. Beckerman was unusually tall for someone working in the clandestine services. For a man who would need to operate in the shadows, Beckerman was over six feet tall. Talley estimated him at six two. He was thin and lanky, slightly stooped and pale skinned, giving him the look of an academic rather than a Mossad agent. Without doubt that was his cover, so he could operate in the guise of an archaeologist or a professor, and no one would guess him not what he claimed to be. His dark brown hair was worn long in the careless, tousled style of a teenager, reinforcing the impression of an academic. An enemy would be wise to take note of his eyes. The odd, careless gangling appearance was at odds with the dark, and almost black piercing eyes that stared, watching everything and missing nothing. Beneath the soft, careless appearance, there would be toughened steel.

It was the other newcomer Talley couldn’t take his eyes from. Rebecca Dayan was short, a tad over five feet tall, yet her body was totally in proportion, slim, firm, and lithe. Her glossy, dark brown hair was tied back tightly, ending in a short, neat ponytail behind her head. She had an oval face, with creamy skin that possessed the faintest tinge of olive. She was wearing little or no make up, a natural beauty. He idly wondered if she was a Sabra, one of those Jews born in Israel, frequently on a kibbutz, and who dedicated themselves to the defense of their native land. But whatever she was, and whatever her origins the exotic creature was one of the most exciting girls he'd ever laid eyes on.

As he held her hand for perhaps a little longer than was necessary, she stared into his eyes for a tiniest fraction of a second. In that moment, he caught a glimpse of the woman inside. She was beautiful, yes, but beneath the skin there was an iron will, a Mossad operative with a steely determination. The stare was a warning. ‘You can look, but don’t touch’.

He managed to tear his eyes away from her as Brooks invited Beckerman to brief them with what Mossad knew. The gangling agent started to speak, looking more like a young teacher explaining the finer points of geometry to a bunch of students.

"Our reconnaissance people traced the route they used to get Rothstein out of Egypt. They took him overland in the trunk of a taxi and had a boat waiting in Alexandria. There, they took him on board a fast powerboat owned by a wealthy Syrian. From there it was an easy passage along the Mediterranean to the port of Latakia where he was transferred to a car and taken to Aleppo."

Welland stared at him. "Aleppo, isn't that city held by the rebels?"

Beckerman nodded. "At the moment the answer is yes, but the situation is fluid. It’s the frontline, and the city changes hands every few weeks. Aleppo is vital to both sides for a single reason. A reason that could decide the outcome of the entire war, and possibly the future of the Middle East."

It wasn't difficult to put two and two together, and Talley offered the only possible answer. "I assume there has to be a chemical weapons plant, a nerve gas laboratory in the area."

Rebecca Dayan answered him. "That is correct, Commander. It is based at Sheikh Najjar, the industrial town close to Aleppo. We do not have the exact location of the laboratory, only that their scientists have been traced going to and fro..."

Carl Brooks interrupted her. "Hold on there. Lev, do I understand you want my people to go into an industrial complex the size of a large town and bring out a hostage, when you don't even have a clue about his exact whereabouts?"

Lev stared back at him. "I guess that sums it up, but we’re working completely blind. Rebecca, what do we know?”

She nodded. “We do have intelligence resources in the area, so we won't be going in completely blind. The biggest problem is time. We have to get Rothstein out before they learn what he knows. He will be under torture, so it will only be hours before he tells them what they want to know, and then days or weeks before they can produce the nerve gas, the CX9. We have to get him out, and preferably destroy the laboratory.”

Talley grimaced. He felt tired. It’d been a long time since he’d enjoyed a night’s sleep. “Days and weeks won’t be enough. We’ll need at least a month to get the threads together. This kind of an operation will take time and a lot of planning.”

“That’s not quite true,” Brooks shook his head. “The way I see it, it’s part of the mission that started in Cairo. It’s ongoing.”

Before Talley could object, Rebecca Dayan dropped the final bombshell. “We do not have a month, Commander Talley. Neither do we have weeks. Six days, that is all we have to get Rothstein out and stop them getting the nerve gas."

"Six days!" Brooks exclaimed. "That’s insane. How come?"

Guy supplied the answer. "Al Naqba. They'll want to mark it with something big, something very big. It's the sixty-fifth anniversary."

Brooks looked puzzled. "Al Naqba? What the hell is that?"

"The Catastrophe," he explained. "The day that marks the creation of the State of Israel. And the day when the Palestinian Muslims decided to throw in their lot with the Arab world and attack the Jewish State, instead of working together toward a solution. Arabs who had been friendly with their Jewish neighbors for decades suddenly took up arms, went into Jewish homes and slaughtered whole families. As a result, the Jews hit back, and the rest is history, a legacy of hate and distrust between both sides that may never be resolved."

Rebecca gave him an admiring look. "You seem to be well informed for a Christian, Sergeant Welland. How come you know so much about the State of Israel?"

"I’m a Jew. It's something I learned as a kid."

She looked at him with a new understanding. "At least it means you're on our side, which is a good start."